Awake
by penvision
Summary: Chapter 4: After nine years of hearing the stories, William meets his father for the first time.
1. Awake 1

-1Disclaimer: Characters… Disney… Don't own… Whatever

"He is happiest, be he king or peasant, who finds peace in his home" - Goethe

…

Will Turner's eyes involuntarily snapped open as the first sliver of sunlight stretched across the horizon, like they did every morning when he was on land. It was a leftover habit from his years as a blacksmith apprentice, but Will was a morning person by routine only, and his mind was still leaden with sleep. Still, he mused while staring at the ceiling, he was awake, so he might as well get up and make breakfast.

The first thing Will noticed as he tried to sit up was a familiar weight on his chest, pinning him to the mattress. He managed the strength to lift his head long enough to see Elizabeth tucked against his side, her head on his chest and her hand resting over his scar, before he dropped back into the pillow. His body slowly became aware of her presence; his own arm wrapped loosely but protectively around her, his hand resting on her shoulder, her leg draped languidly over his, her heart beating flush against his side, the matched rise and fall their breathing. Every trial was worth this, this blissful feeling of his wife asleep next to him. Will let his eyes drift closed, focusing on the steady pulse of her heartbeat, and pulled her a little closer to him, a serene smile slipping across his features as he drifted back into a light sleep.

The sun rose a little higher and a thin thread of golden light hit his closed eyes. Will squinted his eyes shut tighter and uncharacteristically threw his free arm haphazardly over his brow, but it was no use. He was awake. Again. As he lay there, trying to trick himself into thinking that he was still dreaming, something resembling a hazy thought prodded at the back of his mind. What was he going to do again? Breakfast. Right.

The second thing Will noticed as he managed to slide his chest free, though his arm was still captured, without waking Elizabeth was the chilly morning air that hit his bare chest. He glanced at the window to find it propped open as it always was, the echo of the ocean's waves filling the room like a soft lullaby. Neither of them could sleep without the sound of the ocean in the background, or its soft, familiar scent in the air, and Will knew, as he gently clasped his wife's fingers in his own and tenderly kissed them before guiding her hand back to the bed, that he would never again be able to sleep without her.

A chilled breeze tickled his skin as he watched Elizabeth sleep, and Will suddenly remembered that he was shirtless, and cold. Shirt first, then breakfast. Will propped himself onto his free elbow and tore his eyes away from Elizabeth's face to look around their bedroom for the missing garment in question. The blankets and comforter were piled on the floor at the foot of the bed, as they had been kicked off last night. Again. Damn things always got in the way. The door was closed, but his shirt was not hanging off of the doorknob, a common spot for it. A winding trail of clothing started near the door and led to the foot of the bed; shoes, vest, belt, cotton dress, but no shirt, and no pants. Where were his pants? Will glanced down to find the missing trousers on him and was really beginning to question the wisdom of getting up after only three hours of sleep. As he stared at the trousers that, until a moment ago, he did not know he was wearing he admitted that he could not seem focus on anything… except for Elizabeth's leg over his. Elizabeth's long, bare leg. He followed the smooth skin with his eyes when he realized…

Elizabeth was wearing his shirt. Only his shirt. It was his favorite, a simple white cotton that was a little too short for his torso and had a plunging neck line. It looked better on her, anyway, scarcely covering the top of her thighs and revealing an inch or two of skin from her neck to just above her navel. Definitely better on her. He could live with that.

Well, he definitely was not getting his shirt back. Will reached over and delicately began to trace lazy patterns along her thigh with his fingers, her skin still as smooth as it was ten years ago, his mind wandering, his eyes slowly filling with their usual intensity.

Something flashed in the corner of his vision and Will looked up to find the sun's rays reflected off of Elizabeth's wedding band. The golden wedding band that he had made for her during his captaincy of the Flying Dutchman, when eternity was defined as ten years. He lifted his hand in front of his face and rubbed his own wedding band with his thumb, a subconscious habit he had formed soon after he had begun wearing it that always calmed him. Will let his hand drop and placed a soft kiss on Elizabeth's temple, whispering an 'I love you' against her skin that held as much intensity and meaning, if not more, as the first time he had said it before letting his head fall back onto the pillow. He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and Elizabeth's hand found his chest again in her sleep as she closed the few inches between them and pressed against his side again. Will covered her hand with his own and let his eyes drift shut. Breakfast could wait.


	2. Father Son Bonding

AN: I was going to stick with an overall theme for this set of one-shots, but apparently I have a really short attention span.

"The tongue of woman is her sword, which never rusts" - Japanese Proverb

…

"William Turner!" Two heads shot up at Elizabeth's irate shriek from somewhere deep within the house.

Will looked at his son, alarmed brown eyes looking right back at him. "Did you do something?"

William shook his head quickly, "no father, did you?"

Will briefly ran over the days events in his head. "…I don't know."

"What should we do?"

"William Turner, when I find you!" They both snapped their heads toward the house, matching terrified expressions on their faces.

"Um…" Will scooped up the pile of charts spread across the lawn and stood up. "Hide."


	3. Awake 2

AN: Mmm… shirtless Will. …Anyway, time for this little project to earn its 'T' rating. Also, I edited this after getting my wisdom teeth pulled and being, more or less, heavily medicated, so I apologize if it doesn't flow or if I repeat ideas. A lot.

A diamond with a flaw is preferable to a common stone with none - Chinese Proverb

Sharing your bed with someone is one of the most intimate and loving parts of marriage, you know, after sex - My mother (being blunt)

…

Elizabeth stretched her limbs blissfully as she gradually woke up, her slightly sore muscles protesting with a dull ache. Her hand slid across Will's bare chest, her palm catching slightly on the rough skin of his scar, and her eyes snapped open in surprise. Will rarely slept in past seven, even when he was exhausted, quite the opposite of herself. Unfortunately, ever since the first morning of his return, her entire being tingled with longing the moment he rolled out of bed and she would be unable to get any more rest. After only a few months of having Will back sleeping by herself or, more importantly, sleeping in was suddenly near impossible, as though her body had completely unlearned in a single night those ten years, those thousands of empty nights where she forced herself to sleep alone.

She had been so afraid that the time apart would create impossible barriers between them, that they would have changed too much, that the sea would replace her in his heart, or him in hers, that their feelings would fade, that their marriage would ultimately be full of pretends as they tried to force normalcy. She had been so afraid of losing him again.

But then Will burned breakfast his first morning back, and she could still picture him standing in the middle of the kitchen, surrounded by black, billowing smoke, with a look of mixed guilt and embarrassment on his face, not looking like a cursed captain, or a swordsman, or a pirate, but just looking like Will, and she knew then that she had worried for naught, because she was sure that, in that single moment, she had fallen a little more in love with him, if such a thing were possible.

Even after that first day she still carried a little fear in the back of her mind that they would constantly stumble over the little details of living, like buying food or picking out dishes or sharing a bed after sleeping alone for almost thirty years. That second night Elizabeth let down her hair and doused the candle before slipping under the covers of their bed, as she had every night before for as long as she could remember. Her head had barely lay on the pillow before William rolled over in his sleep and slipped his arm possessively around her waist, his face tucking into the crook of her neck. He let out a deep, content sigh as he pulled her to his chest, holding her as though she would break, and, as she ran her fingers up and down his anchoring arm, she could not remember ever feeling so comfortable and loved. It had been a silly little fear, really, because everything felt perfect, with Will's body firm and strong against her back, and she was not sharing her bed with some strange man that she would need to slowly adjust to, but with the one person who should have always been there. And now he would be.

Elizabeth propped her elbow up, head on her hand, and simply watched her husband sleep. She watched the deep, steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, laying her hand below his ribs and feeling each sound breath that he took. A low rumble vibrated against her fingers with each inhale and Elizabeth found her eyes drawn to his serene face, his lips slightly parted, the same soft rumble echoing from the back of his throat, and she realized that he was snoring. She could not help but smile at the thought; Will Turner, valiant pirate captain and feared swordsman, snored.

Elizabeth continued to take in the features of his face, her fingers tenderly brushing along his jaw and cheek, the tips running over his scratchy stubble in amazement. Will rarely went more than a day without shaving, even out at sea, and since he was always up first, if only by a few minutes, Elizabeth almost never saw the shadow of his beard. In fact, now that she reflected on it, Elizabeth realized that she had not yet had the opportunity to watch him sleep in the daylight. He lay on his back, one arm wrapped loosely around her, the other thrown haphazardly over his stomach, his face looking disheveled and untroubled and, she decided, perfectly imperfect, with his messy curls and short whiskers and almost nonexistent snore.

She slowly ran her hand down his smooth chest, smiling to herself as his muscles twitched and jumped at her touch, before covering his hand with hers. She ran her finger along the smooth gold of his wedding band before tracing each of his rough, tanned fingers, fascinated by the contrast of the two. Her palm slid back up, across his abdomen, her skin catching over what felt like a thousand little scars and nicks. He had so many, but, then again, so did she.

Elizabeth's heart unexpectedly swelled with devotion as she again found herself tracing the jagged scar that covered his chest, and she leaned forward and kissed his temple, letting her lips linger on his skin, her fingers lightly combing through his tangled locks. As she pulled back she found a pair sleepy brown eyes staring back up at her.

Elizabeth bit her lip, guilt flooding her, as she let her head fall back onto her pillow. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Will smiled as he rolled onto his side, letting out a soft, satisfied sigh that puffed against her cheek as he brushed his hand absentmindedly through her hair. He leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose, "you're better than any dream."

Elizabeth smiled at his slightly sappy statement; Will had a quiet, subtle sense of humor that was always mixed with sincerity, his eyes shining with laughter. She often wondered why he said such maudlin things in the morning, when he whispered perfectly magnificent words against her skin in the dark, French and Italian and Japanese and a hundred other languages lithely rolling off of his tongue, his intense eyes holding her gaze, his rough fingers and gentle lips brushing along every inch of her honeyed skin, the solid muscles of his back shifting, pulling under her fingertips as she scraped her nails against them.

Will affectionately tickled Elizabeth's neck with his stubble, grinning impishly into her skin, and a small giggle escaped her lips. He replaced his rough cheek with his soft lips, and her eyes slid shut as his hand unhurriedly ran up her cool thigh, a trail of goose bumps forming in its wake, already leaving her breathless.

"You're wearing my shirt." Will's words tickled against Elizabeth's neck, though she barely heard them over her own heartbeat as his teeth scraped along the skin just behind her ear.

"Is this a problem, Mr. Turner?" She had meant for it to sound imposing, but the words were barely a whisper.

Will nodded into her neck, his lips trailing soft kisses along her jaw as his hand clasped the hem and tugged. "It's in the way."


	4. Meeting

-1AN: First, I would like to apologize for the extreme lateness in updating. I don't have any one great excuse, just writer's block. Second, I would like to apologize for using 'as' so many times in the last chapter. Like I said, I was pretty drugged. Apparently I write very well when I'm drugged. Lastly, I would like to apologize in advance. I don't usually write fluffy sappy sap nonsense, although I like to read it, but this gets pretty sappy in the end. I blame it on the Christmas spirit. Anyway, this doesn't have anything to do with anything, just felt like writing it.

What is bitter to endure may be sweet to remember - Anon

…

"Will Turner, I would like you to meet your son, William."

…

"Your father… insolent little whelp who can't take the simplest of orders." Jack took a sip of rum and stared at the wall for a few moments, lost in some unspoken memory, before he looked back at William, the dancing candle accenting the lines of his face. "I swear you look just like 'im."

…

"I remember when your father worked next door." Mrs. Potter rolled up a loaf of fresh bread and set it on the counter, glancing at William. "Could hear him pounding away for hours, one of the finest craftsmen on the island, he was, even when he was not much older than you. Always obsessed with detail. And always working except," she peeked over at Elizabeth, who was chatting with Mr. Potter a few feet away, and leaned over the counter to whisper conspiratorially, "except when your mother was down here, on errands." She began wrapping another roll of bread, her attention on the task at hand. "He was always very quiet and very polite, and very shy." She looked up for a moment, considering the boy standing in front of her listening intently. "Just like you." A sad smile crossed her face, if only for a moment. "…As I was saying, he never knew it, but all of the other girls adored your father. Absolutely adored him, always giggling when he walked by. But they might as well have not existed at all; he only had eyes for the governor's daughter, and," Mrs. Potter sighed, "though she pretended otherwise, your mother only had eyes for him." She wiped her hands on her apron and disappeared behind the counter. "Broke my heart when I heard that she was engaged to the Commodore, rest his soul." She reappeared with an oatmeal cookie and handed it to William, who took it reverently. "Glad it turned out, in the end. Here, darling, these were his favorite."

…

"Your dad is havin' a few drinks with us below decks," Pintel winked, "the kind Captain Jack's so fond of," Ragetti knocked the back of his head with his left hand, his glass eye popping out and landing expertly in his right. He pulled out a worn handkerchief, brown and holey and crusted with dirt, and started to rub his eye. Pintel looked over at him and rolled his eyes, "why do you still carry that thing around?"

Ragetti held the handkerchief up in the moonlight that poured in through the bedroom window, his fingers rubbing over the faded trim. "'S the mark of a gentleman, innit. Makes me feel proper like."

"Well you ain't a gentleman, are you? 'Sides, you're only making it dirtier, just go soak the-"

"Ahem."

Pintel and Ragetti both looked over to young William, tucked in his bed with the covers pulled to his chin. "Story."

Pintel nodded and scooted his chair closer, while Ragetti turned his head, cheeks rosey. "Right, well Turner comes up to me and Ragetti a few-"

Ragetti cleared his throat, "Ragetti and I."

Pintel rolled his eyes. "A few days after we set out for Singapore, bit tipsy from a few bottles of rum we'd the three of us been sharing, and says he wants everyone to know he's pirate, bit slurred like. Well, we don't have no-"

"Any. Do not have any." Ragetti spit on the eyeball.

Pintel glowerd, "As I was sayin', no ink, so can't give him a tattoo, but your pap's more stubborn than a mule when he's drunk, so we asks the captain Barbosa-"

Ragetti nudged Pintel with his elbow, "tell him what Barbosa does."

"I'm telling the story!" Pintel turns back to William and grins. "Barbosa takes Will's ear and before the whelp could pull away, BAM!" Pintel made a stabbing motion, "pokes 'im through with a needle size of your little finger, and old Turner's had a pierced ear ever since."

William rubbed his ear absentmindedly, unimpressed. "That story was too short, and you didn't describe anything, and what's the moral?"

"What?"

"Mother's stories always have a moral lesson at the end, like 'don't cheat,' or 'don't steal.' So, what's the moral?"

Pintel looked at Ragetti who looked right back before shrugging and popping his eye back in, letting it roll in the socket. "As your mum would say, rum 'turns even the most respectable men into complete scoundrels.'"

Pintel nodded, "Will Turner, scoundrel for a day."

…

"Aye, your father will see any promise he makes through to the very end. I'll give 'im that." Captain Barbosa bit into his apple. "Killed me for it, once." William's jaw dropped, and 'uncle Hector' chuckled. "Don't worry, I deserved it."

…

William ran along the worn wooden boards of the dock that led from the Empress into town, turning his head every few feet to make sure that Tai Huang was following. "You knew my father, right, Tai?"

Tai Huang did not pause in his steps or waver his gaze, and William ran back and fell in beside him, "briefly." They had had this discussion before, but Tai Huang never revealed much, and William could never hear enough.

"What was he like?"

They passed merchant kiosks that crowded the street; selling exotic jewelry and cloth, strange fruits, foreign tools, and more than a few unnamable things. "Loyal, brave, cunning and shrewd, clever-"

"You've said all of that before, Tai, but what was he like?" William stopped in the middle of the road, crossing his arms and glaring, and Tai Huang was immediately reminded of his captain.

He looked past William's shoulder at the docks in the distance, and the ocean beyond that. "I admit I did not care for Turner in the beginning," he paused in thought, "either of the Turners." He looked down at William, who waited expectantly, curiosity dancing in his eyes despite the glare on his face. "…It is only when the cold season comes that we know the pine and cypress to be evergreens. Your father is a noble man."

It was not much of an answer, but Tai Huang was not used to children, even with having watched this particular one grow up, and his English was still limited. William considered Tai's response for a moment before nodding and running down the street. He turned his head and Tai Huang began to follow again.

…

Mr. Gibbs rubbed his chin, "does the best impression of Jack."

…

"Will Turner, I would like you to meet your son, William." Elizabeth put a comforting hand on William's shoulder, urging him forward. Will looked down at his son for several drawn out moments, his face remaining relatively passive while his eyes danced with a deep internal struggle. William could only look back in awe. This was him; the man that he had heard so many endless stories about. He had lived on those stories for nine years, had known his father only through the words of others, and yet the man standing before him did not quite fit his imaginings.

He had never pictured his father with scars, but this man had many, and the father in his thoughts was always grinning or laughing, but this man's smile was in his eyes and in the corners of his mouth. This man was much leaner and somehow looked much more like a pirate than a captain, and when he kissed his wife for the first time in ten years it was not a dignified, romantic, hold her delicately while her foot pops off of the ground kiss, like William had expected, but a seemingly infinite series of short, frantic kisses that landed on her cheeks and nose and chin as much as her mouth while he clutched her as close to him as possible. And she was kissing and clutching him back, and William could not tell where one began and the other ended. He thought that it looked more painful than romantic. No, this man was not what he had imagined, but William had the feeling that that was alright.

Will could not stop staring at the boy in front of him, and it was taking all of his willpower to keep from dragging his son into his arms and lifting him off of the ground, never letting him go. But all Will did was flex his fingers once, twice, before finally offering his right hand in a gentleman's gesture.

William glanced at the offered hand with a glare that perfectly matched his mother's before batting it away and lunging at his father, wrapping his arms around his father's waist and tucking his head just beneath his ribs.

Will gently put the previously offered hand on his son's head, his head bowed, his eyes trying to memorize every inch of this new form pressed to him even as the last of the twilight began to fade. After a long moment, Will firmly pulled his son's arms loose from around his waist, not an easy task considering the close to death grip William was using, and stepped back to look his son in the eyes before dropping to his knees and pulling William back into his embrace, a laugh escaping his lips.

That laugh was a thousand times better than any that William had imagined, and his father's hug was perfect.


End file.
